King Solomon's Mines, by H. Rider Haggard

Chapter 16

The Place of Death

It was already dark on the third day after the scene described in the previous chapter when we camped in some huts
at the foot of the “Three Witches,” as the triangle of mountains is called to which Solomon’s Great Road runs. Our
party consisted of our three selves and Foulata, who waited on us — especially on Good — Infadoos, Gagool, who was
borne along in a litter, inside which she could be heard muttering and cursing all day long, and a party of guards and
attendants. The mountains, or rather the three peaks of the mountain, for the mass was evidently the result of a
solitary upheaval, were, as I have said, in the form of a triangle, of which the base was towards us, one peak being on
our right, one on our left, and one straight in front of us. Never shall I forget the sight afforded by those three
towering peaks in the early sunlight of the following morning. High, high above us, up into the blue air, soared their
twisted snow-wreaths. Beneath the snow-line the peaks were purple with heaths, and so were the wild moors that ran up
the slopes towards them. Straight before us the white ribbon of Solomon’s Great Road stretched away uphill to the foot
of the centre peak, about five miles from us, and there stopped. It was its terminus.

I had better leave the feelings of intense excitement with which we set out on our march that morning to the
imagination of those who read this history. At last we were drawing near to the wonderful mines that had been the cause
of the miserable death of the old Portuguese Dom three centuries ago, of my poor friend, his ill-starred descendant,
and also, as we feared, of George Curtis, Sir Henry’s brother. Were we destined, after all that we had gone through, to
fare any better? Evil befell them, as that old fiend Gagool said; would it also befall us? Somehow, as we were marching
up that last stretch of beautiful road, I could not help feeling a little superstitious about the matter, and so I
think did Good and Sir Henry.

For an hour and a half or more we tramped on up the heather-fringed way, going so fast in our excitement that the
bearers of Gagool’s hammock could scarcely keep pace with us, and its occupant piped out to us to stop.

“Walk more slowly, white men,” she said, projecting her hideous shrivelled countenance between the grass curtains,
and fixing her gleaming eyes upon us; “why will ye run to meet the evil that shall befall you, ye seekers after
treasure?” and she laughed that horrible laugh which always sent a cold shiver down my back, and for a while quite took
the enthusiasm out of us.

However, on we went, till we saw before us, and between ourselves and the peak, a vast circular hole with sloping
sides, three hundred feet or more in depth, and quite half a mile round.

“Can’t you guess what this is?” I said to Sir Henry and Good, who were staring in astonishment at the awful pit
before us.

They shook their heads.

“Then it is clear that you have never seen the diamond diggings at Kimberley. You may depend on it that this is
Solomon’s Diamond Mine. Look there,” I said, pointing to the strata of stiff blue clay which were yet to be seen among
the grass and bushes that clothed the sides of the pit, “the formation is the same. I’ll be bound that if we went down
there we should find ‘pipes’ of soapy brecciated rock. Look, too,” and I pointed to a series of worn flat slabs of
stone that were placed on a gentle slope below the level of a watercourse which in some past age had been cut out of
the solid rock; “if those are not tables once used to wash the ‘stuff,’ I’m a Dutchman.”

At the edge of this vast hole, which was none other than the pit marked on the old Dom’s map, the Great Road
branched into two and circumvented it. In many places, by the way, this surrounding road was built entirely out of
blocks of stone, apparently with the object of supporting the edges of the pit and preventing falls of reef. Along this
path we pressed, driven by curiosity to see what were the three towering objects which we could discern from the hither
side of the great gulf. As we drew near we perceived that they were Colossi of some sort or another, and rightly
conjectured that before us sat the three “Silent Ones” that are held in such awe by the Kukuana people. But it was not
until we were quite close to them that we recognised the full majesty of these “Silent Ones.”

There, upon huge pedestals of dark rock, sculptured with rude emblems of the Phallic worship, separated from each
other by a distance of forty paces, and looking down the road which crossed some sixty miles of plain to Loo, were
three colossal seated forms — two male and one female — each measuring about thirty feet from the crown of its head to
the pedestal.

The female form, which was nude, was of great though severe beauty, but unfortunately the features had been injured
by centuries of exposure to the weather. Rising from either side of her head were the points of a crescent. The two
male Colossi, on the contrary, were draped, and presented a terrifying cast of features, especially the one to our
right, which had the face of a devil. That to our left was serene in countenance, but the calm upon it seemed dreadful.
It was the calm of that inhuman cruelty, Sir Henry remarked, which the ancients attributed to beings potent for good,
who could yet watch the sufferings of humanity, if not without rejoicing, at least without sorrow. These three statues
form a most awe-inspiring trinity, as they sit there in their solitude, and gaze out across the plain for ever.

Contemplating these “Silent Ones,” as the Kukuanas call them, an intense curiosity again seized us to know whose
were the hands which had shaped them, who it was that had dug the pit and made the road. Whilst I was gazing and
wondering, suddenly it occurred to me — being familiar with the Old Testament — that Solomon went astray after strange
gods, the names of three of whom I remembered —“Ashtoreth, the goddess of the Zidonians, Chemosh, the god of the
Moabites, and Milcom, the god of the children of Ammon”— and I suggested to my companions that the figures before us
might represent these false and exploded divinities.

“Hum,” said Sir Henry, who is a scholar, having taken a high degree in classics at college, “there may be something
in that; Ashtoreth of the Hebrews was the Astarte of the Phoenicians, who were the great traders of Solomon’s time.
Astarte, who afterwards became the Aphrodite of the Greeks, was represented with horns like the half-moon, and there on
the brow of the female figure are distinct horns. Perhaps these Colossi were designed by some Phoenician official who
managed the mines. Who can say?”10

Before we had finished examining these extraordinary relics of remote antiquity, Infadoos came up, and having
saluted the “Silent Ones” by lifting his spear, asked us if we intended entering the “Place of Death” at once, or if we
would wait till after we had taken food at mid-day. If we were ready to go at once, Gagool had announced her
willingness to guide us. As it was not later than eleven o’clock — driven to it by a burning curiosity — we announced
our intention of proceeding instantly, and I suggested that, in case we should be detained in the cave, we should take
some food with us. Accordingly Gagool’s litter was brought up, and that lady herself assisted out of it. Meanwhile
Foulata, at my request, stored some “biltong,” or dried game-flesh, together with a couple of gourds of water, in a
reed basket with a hinged cover. Straight in front of us, at a distance of some fifty paces from the backs of the
Colossi, rose a sheer wall of rock, eighty feet or more in height, that gradually sloped upwards till it formed the
base of the lofty snow-wreathed peak, which soared into the air three thousand feet above us. As soon as she was clear
of her hammock, Gagool cast one evil grin upon us, and then, leaning on a stick, hobbled off towards the face of this
wall. We followed her till we came to a narrow portal solidly arched that looked like the opening of a gallery of a
mine.

Here Gagool was waiting for us, still with that evil grin upon her horrid face.

“Now, white men from the Stars,” she piped; “great warriors, Incubu, Bougwan, and Macumazahn the wise, are ye ready?
Behold, I am here to do the bidding of my lord the king, and to show you the store of bright stones. Ha! ha!
ha!”

“Nay, I come not; it is not for me to enter there. But thou, Gagool, curb thy tongue, and beware how thou dealest
with my lords. At thy hands will I require them, and if a hair of them be hurt, Gagool, be’st thou fifty times a witch,
thou shalt die. Hearest thou?”

“I hear Infadoos; I know thee, thou didst ever love big words; when thou wast a babe I remember thou didst threaten
thine own mother. That was but the other day. But, fear not, fear not, I live only to do the bidding of the king. I
have done the bidding of many kings, Infadoos, till in the end they did mine. Ha! ha! I go to look upon their
faces once more, and Twala’s also! Come on, come on, here is the lamp,” and she drew a large gourd full of oil, and
fitted with a rush wick, from under her fur cloak.

“Art thou coming, Foulata?” asked Good in his villainous Kitchen Kukuana, in which he had been improving himself
under that young lady’s tuition.

“I fear, my lord,” the girl answered timidly.

“Then give me the basket.”

“Nay, my lord, whither thou goest there I go also.”

“The deuce you will!” thought I to myself; “that may be rather awkward if we ever get out of this.”

Without further ado Gagool plunged into the passage, which was wide enough to admit of two walking abreast, and
quite dark. We followed the sound of her voice as she piped to us to come on, in some fear and trembling, which was not
allayed by the flutter of a sudden rush of wings.

“Hullo! what’s that?” halloed Good; “somebody hit me in the face.”

“Bats,” said I; “on you go.”

When, so far as we could judge, we had gone some fifty paces, we perceived that the passage was growing faintly
light. Another minute, and we were in perhaps the most wonderful place that the eyes of living man have beheld.

Let the reader picture to himself the hall of the vastest cathedral he ever stood in, windowless indeed, but dimly
lighted from above, presumably by shafts connected with the outer air and driven in the roof, which arched away a
hundred feet above our heads, and he will get some idea of the size of the enormous cave in which we found ourselves,
with the difference that this cathedral designed by nature was loftier and wider than any built by man. But its
stupendous size was the least of the wonders of the place, for running in rows adown its length were gigantic pillars
of what looked like ice, but were, in reality, huge stalactites. It is impossible for me to convey any idea of the
overpowering beauty and grandeur of these pillars of white spar, some of which were not less than twenty feet in
diameter at the base, and sprang up in lofty and yet delicate beauty sheer to the distant roof. Others again were in
process of formation. On the rock floor there was in these cases what looked, Sir Henry said, exactly like a broken
column in an old Grecian temple, whilst high above, depending from the roof, the point of a huge icicle could be dimly
seen.

Even as we gazed we could hear the process going on, for presently with a tiny splash a drop of water would fall
from the far-off icicle on to the column below. On some columns the drops only fell once in two or three minutes, and
in these cases it would be an interesting calculation to discover how long, at that rate of dripping, it would take to
form a pillar, say eighty feet by ten in diameter. That the process, in at least one instance, was incalculably slow,
the following example will suffice to show. Cut on one of these pillars we discovered the crude likeness of a mummy, by
the head of which sat what appeared to be the figure of an Egyptian god, doubtless the handiwork of some old-world
labourer in the mine. This work of art was executed at the natural height at which an idle fellow, be he Phoenician
workman or British cad, is in the habit of trying to immortalise himself at the expense of nature’s masterpieces,
namely, about five feet from the ground. Yet at the time that we saw it, which must have been nearly three
thousand years after the date of the execution of the carving, the column was only eight feet high, and was still in
process of formation, which gives a rate of growth of a foot to a thousand years, or an inch and a fraction to a
century. This we knew because, as we were standing by it, we heard a drop of water fall.

Sometimes the stalagmites took strange forms, presumably where the dropping of the water had not always been on the
same spot. Thus, one huge mass, which must have weighed a hundred tons or so, was in the shape of a pulpit, beautifully
fretted over outside with a design that looked like lace. Others resembled strange beasts, and on the sides of the cave
were fanlike ivory tracings, such as the frost leaves upon a pane.

Out of the vast main aisle there opened here and there smaller caves, exactly, Sir Henry said, as chapels open out
of great cathedrals. Some were large, but one or two — and this is a wonderful instance of how nature carries out her
handiwork by the same unvarying laws, utterly irrespective of size — were tiny. One little nook, for instance, was no
larger than an unusually big doll’s house, and yet it might have been a model for the whole place, for the water
dropped, tiny icicles hung, and spar columns were forming in just the same way.

We had not, however, enough time to examine this beautiful cavern so thoroughly as we should have liked to do, since
unfortunately, Gagool seemed to be indifferent as to stalactites, and only anxious to get her business over. This
annoyed me the more, as I was particularly anxious to discover, if possible, by what system the light was admitted into
the cave, and whether it was by the hand of man or by that of nature that this was done; also if the place had been
used in any way in ancient times, as seemed probable. However, we consoled ourselves with the idea that we would
investigate it thoroughly on our way back, and followed on at the heels of our uncanny guide.

On she led us, straight to the top of the vast and silent cave, where we found another doorway, not arched as the
first was, but square at the top, something like the doorways of Egyptian temples.

“Are ye prepared to enter the Place of Death, white men?” asked Gagool, evidently with a view to making us feel
uncomfortable.

“Lead on, Macduff,” said Good solemnly, trying to look as though he was not at all alarmed, as indeed we all did
except Foulata, who caught Good by the arm for protection.

“This is getting rather ghastly,” said Sir Henry, peeping into the dark passageway. “Come on, Quatermain —
seniores priores. We mustn’t keep the old lady waiting!” and he politely made way for me to lead the van, for
which inwardly I did not bless him.

Tap, tap, went old Gagool’s stick down the passage, as she trotted along, chuckling hideously; and still
overcome by some unaccountable presentiment of evil, I hung back.

Thus adjured, I started down the passage, and after about twenty paces found myself in a gloomy apartment some forty
feet long, by thirty broad, and thirty high, which in some past age evidently had been hollowed, by hand-labour, out of
the mountain. This apartment was not nearly so well lighted as the vast stalactite ante-cave, and at the first glance
all I could discern was a massive stone table running down its length, with a colossal white figure at its head, and
life-sized white figures all round it. Next I discovered a brown thing, seated on the table in the centre, and in
another moment my eyes grew accustomed to the light, and I saw what all these things were, and was tailing out of the
place as hard as my legs could carry me.

I am not a nervous man in a general way, and very little troubled with superstitions, of which I have lived to see
the folly; but I am free to own that this sight quite upset me, and had it not been that Sir Henry caught me by the
collar and held me, I do honestly believe that in another five minutes I should have been outside the stalactite cave,
and that a promise of all the diamonds in Kimberley would not have induced me to enter it again. But he held me tight,
so I stopped because I could not help myself. Next second, however, his eyes became accustomed to the light,
and he let go of me, and began to mop the perspiration off his forehead. As for Good, he swore feebly, while Foulata
threw her arms round his neck and shrieked.

Only Gagool chuckled loud and long.

It was a ghastly sight. There at the end of the long stone table, holding in his skeleton fingers a great
white spear, sat Death himself, shaped in the form of a colossal human skeleton, fifteen feet or more in
height. High above his head he held the spear, as though in the act to strike; one bony hand rested on the stone table
before him, in the position a man assumes on rising from his seat, whilst his frame was bent forward so that the
vertebræ of the neck and the grinning, gleaming skull projected towards us, and fixed its hollow eye-places upon us,
the jaws a little open, as though it were about to speak.

“Great heavens!” said I faintly, at last, “what can it be?”

“And what are those things?” asked Good, pointing to the white company round the table.

“And what on earth is that thing?” said Sir Henry, pointing to the brown creature seated on the table.

“Come, Incubu, brave in battle, come and see him thou slewest;” and the old creature caught Curtis’ coat in her
skinny fingers, and led him away towards the table. We followed.

Presently she stopped and pointed at the brown object seated on the table. Sir Henry looked, and started back with
an exclamation; and no wonder, for there, quite naked, the head which Curtis’ battle-axe had shorn from the body
resting on its knees, was the gaunt corpse of Twala, the last king of the Kukuanas. Yes, there, the head perched upon
the knees, it sat in all its ugliness, the vertebræ projecting a full inch above the level of the shrunken flesh of the
neck, for all the world like a black double of Hamilton Tighe.11 Over the
surface of the corpse there was gathered a thin glassy film, that made its appearance yet more appalling, for which we
were, at the moment, quite unable to account, till presently we observed that from the roof of the chamber the water
fell steadily, drip! drop! drip! on to the neck of the corpse, whence it ran down over the entire surface, and
finally escaped into the rock through a tiny hole in the table. Then I guessed what the film was — Twala’s body was
being transformed into a stalactite.

A look at the white forms seated on the stone bench which ran round that ghastly board confirmed this view. They
were human bodies indeed, or rather they had been human; now they were stalactites. This was the way in which
the Kukuana people had from time immemorial preserved their royal dead. They petrified them. What the exact system
might be, if there was any, beyond the placing of them for a long period of years under the drip, I never discovered,
but there they sat, iced over and preserved for ever by the siliceous fluid.

Anything more awe-inspiring than the spectacle of this long line of departed royalties (there were twenty-seven of
them, the last being Ignosi’s father), wrapped, each of them, in a shroud of ice-like spar, through which the features
could be dimly discovered, and seated round that inhospitable board, with Death himself for a host, it is impossible to
imagine. That the practice of thus preserving their kings must have been an ancient one is evident from the number,
which, allowing for an average reign of fifteen years, supposing that every king who reigned was placed here — an
improbable thing, as some are sure to have perished in battle far from home — would fix the date of its commencement at
four and a quarter centuries back.

But the colossal Death, who sits at the head of the board, is far older than that, and, unless I am much mistaken,
owes his origin to the same artist who designed the three Colossi. He is hewn out of a single stalactite, and, looked
at as a work of art, is most admirably conceived and executed. Good, who understands such things, declared that, so far
as he could see, the anatomical design of the skeleton is perfect down to the smallest bones.

My own idea is, that this terrific object was a freak of fancy on the part of some old-world sculptor, and that its
presence had suggested to the Kukuanas the idea of placing their royal dead under its awful presidency. Or perhaps it
was set there to frighten away any marauders who might have designs upon the treasure chamber beyond. I cannot say. All
I can do is to describe it as it is, and the reader must form his own conclusion.